


morning will come again (no darkness is eternal)

by kaeilli



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, No Infinity War or Endgame, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Tony Stark, Time Loop, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Whump, we pretend those movies never happened goodbye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28807296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeilli/pseuds/kaeilli
Summary: Steepling his hands and pressing his forehead against them firmly, Peter tried to think through the fog that was muddling his brain. What were the facts? What could he focus on instead of spiraling out of control?It was January 15th. Again.Tony had died twice. Two different ways.Each day started the same. His alarm clock, then May, then the text.No one had any recollection of the past two January 15ths.Peter's eyes snapped when the realization hit him. “A time loop. I'm stuck in my very own Groundhog Day," he stated out loud to no one in particular. "I'm Bill Murray." The concept would be so much cooler if there wasn't the fact that Tony kept dying and forgetting but Peter kept remembering.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	morning will come again (no darkness is eternal)

Patrol hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. A couple muggings, assisting authorities with a gnarly car crash on 73rd and (his favorite) helping the lady with the _amazing_ hot dog stand close for the night. Pretty slow for a Thursday night in Queens.

Peter sat on the edge of a building, kicking his feet out as he waited for someone to need Spider-Man’s help. It wasn’t often he got quiet patrols like these, but when he could, he’d perch on a roof or balcony and watch the cars and pedestrians pass by in oblivion. It was his city and he took pride in maintaining the peace; as much peace as one mutated spider teen could manage, at least. 

Unfortunately for him (and the city), being a mutated spider teen didn’t stop curfews. May had been _very_ specific after the last time he missed curfew that if it happened again, he’d be grounded from all things Spider-Man. That’s why his phone began to shriek beside him, buzzing against the concrete at 10:30 exactly. A half hour of time to get home with plenty of time in case he got distracted.

Peter snatched his phone and stood up. “Time to head home, Karen. It’s been kind of slow tonight anyways, which- ah crap, I hope I didn’t jinx that. There’s not even any wood to knock on, just bricks.”

“Jinxing a situation and knocking on wood are both superstitions, meaning they’re unlikely to come true,” the AI replied, unhelpfully. 

Snorting, Peter jumped to the roof of the next building over. “That takes the fun out of it. Mr. Stark always rolls his eyes at me but I just can’t take the chance, y’know? Sometimes fate just says surprise and-”

A high pitched scream startled Peter. He flailed to keep his balance, barely keeping himself from falling off the edge. “Holy shit- woah, okay. Uh, Karen, what’s going on?”

"There are no security cameras in the immediate area that show any suspicious activity. But Peter, may I remind you that curfew is in 27 minutes?”

Peter was already racing over the roof to locate where exactly the scream had come from. “It won’t take that long, promise.”

The AI didn’t respond, but somehow Peter still felt her judgement seeping through the silence.

Across the street he found the person who had cried out. An older woman was trapped in between two men near a closed store, her hands shaking as she raised her bag. “Take my purse. Please… don’t hurt me.”

One of the men snatched the purse, immediately rifling through its contents. “Where the fuck is the cash? No cards? Who the hell doesn’t keep money on th-”

Peter jumped down behind them. “Kindergarten lesson: stealing is bad.” They spun around and he webbed the first man’s face, pulling harshly. The thug stumbled, tripping over his own feet. “You don’t seem too smart, though, for trying to corner a poor lady like that. Must not have caught on that quick.” The other one came at Peter’s side and he was quick to web his feet, watching as he fell forward.

It didn’t take more than a minute to finish up. Both men were pathetically webbed to the ground, grumbling and squirming in their cocoons of web fluid. “Okay Karen, you know what to do.”

“Police have been notified and are on their way.”

“Sp-Spider-Man?”

The trembling voice of the woman made Peter’s head snap up. “Hey! Woah, are you okay? Oh, here, lemme-” He crouched down, grabbing the purse that had been dropped and quickly swept up the contents. A stone, in between some papers, had dropped out as he tried to put it in. “Gah, sorry.”

As his masked hand touched the stone, a weird feeling shot up his arm. He jerked away with a gasp, staring at his hand as though it had been burnt.

The woman held her purse close to her chest and looked at Peter nervously. “Just leave it. I-It was just for my rock collection.”

Peter frowned, finally grabbing the rock. “It’s okay, here.”

It was the head rush as he stood up that had Peter using all his strength not to tilt sideways. The stone was dropping into the woman’s open purse. “Um- ah, are you okay? I have to go- um, cops will- they’re gonna be here soon. I- yeah.”

Peter barely waited for a response. He was already jumping onto the nearest roof. It was hard to ignore the way all his senses seemed to fade and dull.

“It’s 10:48, Peter. If you head straight home, you’ll be able to make it in your window at 10:56.”

“Yeah, 10:56. Totally. Got it. Four minutes to sit down and get rid of this headache…” Sitting down was his most important task, even as Karen was sounding more urgent. Letting his back hit the building’s rough concrete, his brows furrowed together with no intentions of shaking off whatever hit him. He was just so tired.

Which is why he slept for a whole twenty minutes, only to wake up to May’s voice in his ear. 

“Peter? Peter?! Answer me! Peter! I’m going to get Tony- dammit-“

“May?” he asked, pressing the heels of his hands into his masked eyes to try and disperse some of the grogginess still following him. “W’ssup?”

A scoff on the other end of the line answered him. “What do you _mean_ , what’s up? Peter, it’s 11:08. I thought you told me you were going to be more careful about your curfew. Where are you?”

Peter sat up quick, ignoring the feeling of his brain feeling like melted ice cream swirling around. “Oh shit,” he muttered, picking himself up from the ground. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I fell asleep.”

“You fell asleep??

Peter winced, pressing his hand into his forehead this time.

“You realize how that’s worse, right? That doesn’t reassure me one bit. Just get home. Now.”

The call ended and Peter groaned, shaking his head as he jogged lightly to the other side of the roof. “I’m done for. I’m done.”

__________

By the time Peter was sliding into his window, an agitated May was already in the doorway, clad in her favorite robe. “Hand it over.”

“What?”

“The suit. Hand it over.” Her hand was extended, staring at him expectantly. 

Peter nervously tapped the spider in the middle of his chest, feeling the material loosen around him. It hung loosely around his shoulders but he was reluctant to take it off yet. “You’re taking the suit?”

May leveled him with a steely gaze. “Yes, I’m taking it. I told you last time; the next time you step into the apartment even a minute late, you’re grounded. Peter, these kinds of things can’t just fly without repercussions. Not to mention you fell asleep on patrol! I shouldn’t even have to explain why that’s reckless!”

His eyes darted down, swallowing thickly. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“How can you save anyone as Spider-Man when you can’t even take care of yourself? Don’t think I haven’t seen your grades starting to slip, Pete, or the fact that you crawl out of bed each morning with dark circles no teen should have. This isn’t to punish you just because. I need you to be safe and responsible.” Peter flinched at the sharp words. “I think this will be a good lesson to learn how to prioritize yourself again. I can’t let anything happen to you. Not- not after-” She exhaled slowly. “You know what I’m getting at.”

Peter did know what she was trying to say, which is why he gave into defeat easily. _Not after Ben._ “Alright,” he mumbled, starting to pull the suit off before hesitating. “Um, can you-” He twirled his finger.

May turned to give him privacy. Pulling the suit off and switching into sweatpants and a shirt, he held out the suit in a hesitant peace offering. “I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly, watching as May turned back around to take it.

“I know you are,” she said, her gaze softening. “But you have to learn, Peter. You’re only 16. Doing these things and throwing yourself into danger- it stresses me out, baby. I want you to be safe. And part of that is following my rules. I set the curfew for a reason.”

“I know.”

May pulled him into a one armed hug and he didn’t fight it, letting her press a kiss to his temple. “You don’t have a concussion, do you?”

Peter turned to look at her in confusion. “What?”

“You said you fell asleep.”

“Oh!” With a quick shake of his head, he moved away from her touch, taking a seat on his bunk bed. “No, just uh, tired I guess.”

May hummed, studying him for a moment longer. “Alright. Well-” She raised the suit. “I’m keeping this. Five days.” Ignoring the groan from her nephew, she stepped outside the door. “Go to bed, Peter. I’m not letting you be late for school tomorrow. Again.”

Falling back, Peter stifled a frustrated noise into his pillow. Tomorrow would be better, he was sure of it.

________________

When his alarm went off, exactly at 6am, Peter stretched out with a groan and hit the snooze button. Just another minute…

“You’ll be late for school, Peter!”

The two sharp knocks that accentuated the statement startled him out of sleep. Wrinkling his nose, Peter rolled over. Distantly, he could hear May go into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. Blearily he stared at the wall ahead of him until the screen of his phone lit up. Fumbling to pick it up and stare with squinted eyes into the bright screen, he read the new message.

_Tony: May said you got in some trouble. Have to adhere to the rules she lays down, kid. I can’t do anything about the patrol situation. Not to fear, spiderkid. Lab night is still on and your favorite Avenger is ready to help you with your webshooters._

Peter sighed softly, letting his head hit the pillows again. Maybe if he hadn’t messed up again, he totally could have gone with for whatever Avengers business this was. No way May would let up with how upset she had been last night.

_Peter: oh, I didn’t know Thor was in town._

_Tony: Brat._   
_Tony: Just for that, I’m changing lab night to tomorrow._

_Peter: :(_

_Tony: I say that jokingly, but actually, I do have to change it to tomorrow. Avengers stuff came up, you know how it is. Thor is in town too, but if I were you, I wouldn’t trust him with your webshooters._

_Peter: oh ok! no problem. I think I’d prefer you to check my work anyways :) I’ll see you saturday then mr stark_

_Tony: I’ll make up for the change of plans. We’ll work on those webshooters, then Star Wars and plenty of pizza?_

With a grin, he sat up, tapping out one last text.

_Peter: deal. pineapple?_

_Tony: I think not. Now get to school. Even Pineapple Heathens like yourself need an education._

With a short laugh, Peter jumped up from his bed, knowing May was coming around the corner to bang on his door again. He rushed to the door and opened it before her fist could come swinging down. “I’m up,” he said, slipping past her. “Uh, Tony said that he was changing lab night to tomorrow.”

May hummed, following to the bathroom door where he stood at the sink, brushing his teeth. “Why’s that?” she asked, seeming unimpressed with the change of plans.

It was no secret that May didn’t like Mr. Stark very much. It had started with the whole ‘greedy billionaire men like him are the worst’ to ‘greedy billionaire men who let my nephew swing around in a multimillion dollar suit behind my back are _the worst’_. Peter couldn’t necessarily disprove how inappropriate it had been to keep the vigilante thing from her, but made sure to hype Mr. Stark up every other moment he could.

The man’s kind and generous moments often outweighed the bad but May never really seemed to understand that. Her tendencies to hold grudges and rather explosive anger didn’t really surprise Peter that she still had a dislike toward Mr. Stark.

“Just some Avengers stuff, I guess.” Peter tried not to let the disappointment seep into his voice, brushing harder at his teeth instead and refusing to make eye contact with her.

A hand came down to ruffle his hair. “Sorry, Peter. You know you can’t-”

“I know,” he groaned, moving his head away from her touch.

Huffing a laugh at his quite teenager-esque attitude, she walked away from the door. “Hurry up before you miss your train.”

_____________

Dropping his lunchtray on the table next to Ned, Peter groaned. “I could be getting ready for a mission right now, Ned. I could be proving myself to the Avengers, and yet I’m here, eating my second sloppy joe of the week.” He lifted the soggy bun and took a fork to scoop up the meat instead, stuffing it in his mouth.

Ned looked sympathetically in his direction. “The curfew was set for a reason,” he tried to mention, but Peter was shaking his head.

“The thing is, I _was_ going home. I just stopped for a second to rest. Next thing I knew, boom, it was curfew.” He stuffed another mouthful in, talking around it. “I don’t think it’s fair. It’s not like I’m doing something bad! It’s the complete opposite. I’m saving-”

Another tray came down next to his and he looked up, watching as MJ took her seat next to him. She looked back at him, raising a simple eyebrow, before pulling her own buns off and scraped the meat onto Peter’s tray. “Give me your bread,” she demanded.

Peter did as she said. It wasn’t uncommon for the three of them to swap food at lunch. A tradition that had started a couple of months ago after Ned looked on in disgust at the ‘mac and plastic cheese’, Michelle had offered her plain chicken nuggets in exchange.

A strange system had been built since, but hey, it worked.

After the two pieces of bread were off his tray and he was left with a mound of meat that looked far too orange for his liking, Peter continued his conversation. “I’m just saying, it’s not like I’m doing anything bad when I go out at night, so I don’t understand why May-”

“What, did you get grounded again?” MJ asked, inspecting her piece of bread carefully before taking a bite.

“Well, yeah-”

“Then you probably deserved it.”

Ned nodded hesitantly. “Doesn’t matter if your intentions were good or not. May doesn’t really seem like the type to ground you just because.” He poked at a piece of fruit. “But hey! We can finally finish that lego set I got a month ago. I’ve been waiting for you to come over.”

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, Peter realized how much he’d been neglecting Ned. It was always patrol or lab days or spending time with May or homework anymore. “Yeah, I guess we could do that. What about Sunday?”

Ned grinned. “Perfect! I’ve got the pieces all organized for the different parts, so you can work on one while I do another-”

“Sunday night legos,” MJ snarked, leaning her head into her hand. “Sounds like fun.” Peter knew better than to take it personally.

“What are you going to do? Read the encyclopedia?” he teased, to which she rolled her eyes.

“Encyclopedia would be more interesting than listening to you two geek out.” Peter laughed sharply just as Ned protested. MJ’s own mouth was quirked up.

Maybe being without the suit for a couple of days would do him some good.

________________

When the evening rolled around, Peter had decided being without the suit wasn’t doing him any good.

Six in the evening rolled around and found Peter sprawled across the couch. An episode of one of May’s favorite cooking shows played on the television only because the remote laid out of Peter’s reach. Homework was done, dinner had been eaten, and now he was just waiting for May’s shift to end so they could watch a movie. He barely paid attention to what was happening as a shit ton of butter was melted into a pan. Kind of looked good, kind of made him nauseous. Who would ever eat that much butter-

 _Bzzt. Bzzt._ Sighing dramatically, Peter flipped a hand at it. “Stop,” he muttered, knowing it was probably Ned. He and Peter both were known to be quadruple texters; nothing could be put into one paragraph, it was sent in multiple texts. It drove May crazy when he did that and set her phone off multiple times.

 _Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._ Something must be going on, something urgent. Urgent to Ned wasn’t a solid definition. It could be anything from a comic they loved was being adapted into a movie (finally) all the way up to _holy shit the world is burning because there’s an asteroid coming our way_. There was no in-between when it came to his urgency.

Lifting himself up, Peter grabbed the phone only to be affronted with texts pouring in from Ned.

_Ned: have youu seen the news?_   
_Ned: holu shit peter_   
_Ned: peter respond0_   
_Ned: this isnt good ay al_

Mouth twisted in confusion, both at the typos and the frantic texting that kept coming, he reached for the remote to change to the news.

_BREAKING: Avengers Quinjet shot down, at least 2 dead, 4 injured_

Peter’s breath hitched in his throat. Oh, _god_. Tony. He had the suit, Peter consoled himself. Obviously he would be okay.

He needed to get there as backup. Civilians had to be evacuated from surrounding areas and who knew where the attackers were? _Have to make sure Tony’s safe._ If the Avengers were out of commission, someone had to go and help the authorities. He stopped in the middle of the living room. Fuck. His suit was in May’s room somewhere. 

His fingers shakily dialed her number. It rang and the reporters kept speaking, but his mind was dragging behind. _Tony was okay. He had to be okay. Please answer, May. Please-_

_Hi, this is May. Leave a message-_

Peter ended the call and dialed again.

“We have no details of who was on the quinjet at the time it was attacked,” the male reporter stated, a close up on his solemn expression. “Police are actively looking for the persons responsible for the crash. Anyone who has information on the attackers are asked to- oh, hold on, we’re receiving some new information.” Peter’s head snapped toward the television, holding the phone tighter to his ear.

The man gasped, along with his costar, and shared a look between themselves. “We just received the confirmation of another death. Tony Stark was just confirmed as killed in action.”

_Hi, this is May. Leave-_

The phone dropped from Peter’s hand and a disbelieving sob crawled up his throat. No. There was absolutely no way that Tony had died in a plane crash. He couldn’t go out like that. That was impossible.

No fucking way.

Peter was barely aware that he had dropped to his knees. A rushing in his ears that sounded like waves made it hard to focus and his vision was becoming blurry. He could barely breathe. His chest hurt- why did it hurt so much? He couldn’t- what- _Tony-_

Peter tipped to the side and closed his eyes when he couldn’t fight the wave dragging him down.

______

When Peter came to, he was in his bed. Rays of morning sunshine filtered through the window and made him groan, promptly shutting his eyes again. It felt like exhaustion had settled itself in every crevice of his body. With an arm thrown over his eyes for extra protection against the light, he heard the faint buzz of a notification when the memories came flooding back.

_Tony Stark is dead._

There was a knock on his door and vaguely, he could make out May’s voice through the rushing in his ears that had returned. The sheets were thrown off in a hurry as he stumbled out of bed. “Peter?” May asked, sounding worried. “Hey, you okay? Not breaking yourself, are you?”

He needed May. Peter needed her comfort and safety.

The door was wrenched open and he launched himself at his aunt. “Woah,” she said breathlessly, stumbling back a step as she caught an armful of teary nephew. Putting a finger under his chin, she tilted Peter’s head up and immediately frowned when she saw tears brewing. “Peter, what’s the matter?”

Confusion engulfed Peter. There was no way May couldn’t have heard the reports by then. “The- the news, May,” he insisted, sounding borderline distraught.

May stared at him before slowly shaking her head. “I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary online-”

Bolting from May, he snatched the living room remote up and turned the tv on. It was on the cooking channel again. Frustrated, his shaky fingers pushed at the buttons until the local news channel was on. Cheery news reporters were talking about the latest adoption center dogs and cats waiting to be adopted. Not a single remorseful expression about the quinjet accident, nor a single mention of Mr. Stark’s death.

His back hit the cushions of the couch in disbelief. Was it… was it just a vivid dream?

Peter caught a glimpse of the date on the bottom of the screen. _January 15th, 2018._

January 15th?! It was supposed to be January 16th. Except… it wasn’t. Unless it was a very obvious typo on the television. His head was spinning with the information, trying to pick out reality from what had to be some crazy fever dream.

“Peter… are you okay?”

Peter’s head snapped up to look at May who was staring right back at him. “You’re scaring me. What happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” he said honestly, forcing himself to stand up from the couch. “I think it was a really, _really_ vivid dream. Something really bad happened and it seemed so real...” His voice trailed off, seeming unsure. 

May came forward to wrap an arm around him. “I thought the nightmares were getting better.”

Adamantly, Pete shook his head. “No, no. It’s not those kinds of nightmares. It was something different. Not a flashback or anything.” His lips thinned out into a frown. A deja vu moment? A weird premonition? Aw man, he really hoped it wasn’t some weird new ability that was developing. “I don’t think it’ll happen again. It’s one of those random things out of nowhere.” Smiling weakly to show he was serious, May slowly nodded.

“Alright. But if it happens again-”

“If it happens again, I’ll tell you.”

May sighed softly but seemed to let it go. Her eyes were still trained on him like he would burst into tears again, a hand coming to pat at his back gently. “You okay to go to school? I wouldn’t mind calling in your absence- just this once. Your grades can’t suffer anymore.”

Peter bit on the inside of his cheek, taking a glance towards the hallway. “Uh… do you mind if I stay home? I just need some time to clear my head.”

With a nod, his aunt was squeezing his shoulder. “Yeah, of course, sweetheart. But remember, no patrolling.”

“I can’t anyway. You have the suit,” Peter deadpanned.

May shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to remind you. If I remember right, my nephew is known for his complete disregard of rules.” She quirked an eyebrow at him as though to say _challenge me, I dare you._ Peter smiled guiltily back at her and she huffed a laugh. “Get some rest, Peter.”

With a quick and reassuring smile, he took one last glance at the date on the television before going to his room. Collapsing onto his bunk, he groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Whatever had happened yesterday or last night or… whatever, was way too vivid to be boiled down to a dream. But maybe it was some crazy fluke. Crazier had happened, after all, and his morning hadn’t started exactly like yesterday. Besides, the text from Tony-

Peter dove for his phone as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He barely avoided smacking his head into the metal framing as he fumbled to pick up the phone. If there was no text, then it was a fluke.

One text notification greeted him when he unlocked the screen.

_Tony: May said you got in some trouble. Have to adhere to the rules she lays down, kid. I can’t do anything about the patrol situation. Not to fear, spiderkid. Lab night is still on and your favorite Avenger is ready to help you with your webshooters._

Oh.

It only took two rings before Tony answered. “Not that I'm not glad to hear from my favorite intern at 6am, but shouldn’t you be hitting the snooze button right now?”

“No, May would kill me if I slept th- That doesn’t matter. Uh, you’re not- you… are we still having a lab night tonight?” The words were twisting in the back of his throat, becoming nearly impossible to get past his tongue.

“Ah, about that-” There was a momentary pause and the sound of metal hitting metal. “I was called by my _favorite_ employer, Mr. Fury, about some sort of HYDRA outpost that needs the Avengers on the job. Lab is bumped to Saturday. As much as I’d love to, what is it you say, _spill the tea_ about the mission-”

Peter shook his head, knowing Tony was starting to go off on a tangent. “Are you going on a quinjet?” he asked, interrupting the man as his leg started bouncing.

Tony laughed, clearly taken aback by the question. “I’m not squishing in the back of a van with any of them, that’s for sure. Why-”

“You can’t go.” Peter’s words were shaky and nervous, rolling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Stay here. Cancel the mission.”

There was a solid _clank_ in the background and he could almost see Tony’s narrowed eyes and questioning expression. “Alright, spill it, kid. What’s going on?”

Standing from the creaky bunk bed, Peter slowly paced the area of the small room. “It’s dumb but I had the weirdest nightmare last night. The quinjet was attacked and it crashed, and you- you-” The words died on his tongue and he moved on. “I know you don’t believe in deja vu or superstitions or anything, but Mr. Stark, it seemed so real.”

There was a thoughtful hum, then a couple of moments of silence and Peter was starting to get antsy. “I’m sure that’s all it was,” Tony finally assured him, the quiet noise of metal hitting metal picking back up in the background. “It was a dream. The quinjets are safe, maybe even the safest of all transportation methods. It’s yours truly who puts together the upgrades and new tech for them. And you trust me, right?”

“Of course I do, but-”

“Then it’s settled. Everything’s fine. I have deja vu moments, too. Pepper yells at me for forgetting to show up to a banquet, and I swear I’ve had that same lecture before.”

Peter’s face contorted into a frown as he paused his pacing. “But she has. I’ve heard her-”

“Oh man, would you look at the time! Better wrap this call up,” Tony declared loudly, effectively cutting Peter off. His voice softened as he spoke again. “Look, kid, I swear that everything is fine with the quinjet. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll do a second look myself, alright? Don’t worry yourself too much.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” It wasn’t like he meant for his voice to sound so small, but the newsline was still fresh in his head no matter how much he tried not to think about it.

“I promise. Hey, I’ll even send you a selfie with Captain Tightpants before we leave. A confirmation that everything’s peachy keen _and_ that I haven’t thrown myself off the nearest bridge from listening to his self-righteous bullshit again. Sound good?”

A small smile spread over Peter’s lips. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Tony repeated, his voice sounding even softer than it had a moment ago. “Well, I’ve got some updating to do on a couple of projects and you’ve got an education to get to. I’ll see you Saturday, kid.”

“Yeah, see ya.” The phone beeped, signaling the end of the conversation.

Peter should have left it there. He warned Tony, Tony assured him, and now it was time to let the Avenger handle it. It was a dream. A random premonition that had no scientific meaning.

He couldn’t leave it alone.

What happened when Tony left on the quinjet and Peter was forced to watch again as the news reporters announced his death? That Peter had to learn, with thousands of other people at the same time, that his mentor had died in a fiery wreckage?

_Just like his parents._

It was hard to swallow down the panic that engulfed him at that thought.

There was a short knock on the door, then May’s head popped in. “Alright, kiddo, I’m heading out. I can’t promise that I’ll get off early tonight, but I’ll try.”

“Yeah. Have a good shift, May,” Peter offered.

The front door hadn’t even been locked properly before Peter was booking it to May’s room. It was a total invasion of privacy and he knew that. The guilt was clawing up his throat as he was flinging drawers open, dropping to look under the bed, and searching desperately through the closet. He knew the suit had to be somewhere along her belongings and he needed it- _just in case._

If the quinjet didn’t get attacked, then fine. If there was any suspicious activity, even just a glimmer of something dark on the horizon, then he was prepared. He wouldn’t allow it to happen outside of his dream.

It wasn’t until he found the hat box perched precariously atop folded clothes in the back. The suit was there, folded and neatly put in the box, mask set right on top. “Thank god,” he choked out. It took just a minute to have the suit on, clinging to his skin in a way that normally, was comfortable but now, was just itchy. His guilty conscience, always one of his worst weaknesses.

The front door opened and Peter looked back, his eyes wide in terror at the mess he had caused in her room.

“Peter? Hey, I forgot my wallet-”

Jumping through the window, Peter was webbing through the city before May could see him.

___________

A half hour and ten missed calls from May later, Peter was pacing on the edge of a building near the Avengers Tower. “Still nothing, Karen?”

“Still nothing,” the AI repeated. “I will update you if I get any new intel. For now, may I suggest sitting down? A fall from this height could potentially be lethal, especially given your vitals. You seem stressed and not in the right mind.”

Peter scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just keep searching.”

The AI didn’t respond, and once again, Peter felt guilty. AI or not, Karen shouldn’t be spoken to like that.

“I built your AI to know what’s best for you, but of course, you don’t listen to any voice of reason, do you, Pete?”

Peter flinched, stumbling back from the edge to look around. Red and gold glimmered, approaching from the tower.

“M-Mr. Stark-”

“May called me. Said her room was trashed and her nephew was gone, along with the Spider-Man suit she had been fairly certain she stashed away.” Peter’s eyes widened as the man slowed as he descended to Peter’s level. The suit peeled away to show Tony, in his lab clothes with the usual oil stains. “You royally fucked up now. To be honest, _I’m_ disappointed, too. I thought you were better than this.”

Peter was shaking his head vigorously, taking a step back. “It’s not- you don’t understand, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s lips thinned into a line, staring Peter down. “I thought we were past this, Pete. Past the sneaking around behind the adults’ backs, past thinking you can do things on your own, past the lies. This hit a new low. I know I promised not to take the suit back-” He raised a hand when Peter’s breath hitched in terror. “I’m not taking it. Forever, at least. I’m keeping it in safe hands until you’re ungrounded. Whenever that is. And considering May’s screaming perforated at least one of my eardrums, you’re not on solid ground, bud.”

Peter’s eyes watered behind the mask. “Tony, _please-”_

Mr. Stark shook his head. “Now you call me Tony? Of all times, now? There’s no arguing about this. It’s over.”

Clenching his jaw, Peter ignored the tight feeling in his chest. “Fine,” he breathed out. “I’ll hand over the suit. But you can’t go on that mission. You have to _promise_ me that you won’t go.”

“Peter-”

“Promise!” It wasn’t supposed to sound so loud and desperate, but it was how it wrenched itself from his throat. “Please…”

Tony looked visibly surprised by his outburst. Licking his lip, he shifted his weight as he stared off in thought. “Yeah, yeah. Alright. I promise. It’s not the first time I’ve thrown the timeline for a mission out the window. Now go, before your aunt has a complete mental breakdown again.”

Peter winced. “Is she at home? She didn’t…?”

There was a smirk he was trying not to show at Peter’s obvious fear for the Italian woman with a sharp tongue. “Oh yeah, she’s at home. I got half of the lecture and I had nothing to do with it this time. Just wait ‘til you get the full thing.” Tony clasped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “C’mon, bud, let’s get you home before I’m grilled again.”

It was like everything happened so fast, but Peter’s body moved so slow.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a gun fired. Before he could launch himself at Tony and knock him out of the way, the man was staggering back, a bullethole ripped through his chest.

“No!” Peter screamed, diving forward to catch him before he could drop to the cement. _Ben’s body collapsing to the ground as the shooter ran._ “No no no.... Karen, call for help. Get backup. Mr. Stark, you’re gonna be okay. I promise, I’ll- I can help-” Tony’s eyes stared up at nothing. Heaving sobs started racking Peter’s frame. _Ben staring blankly at Peter as he shook his shoulders, begging for him to wake up._ “C’mon, please. This isn’t funny! This isn’t-” He wailed, his fingers tightening their grip around his shirt. _Hands coming to grab his shoulders and pull him back gently from Ben, who was bleeding all over the pavement._ Vaguely, Karen was speaking, but the waves were starting to pull him under again.

His vision was blurring again and he couldn’t hear. Mr. Stark with his pale face and blank stare and bloody chest slowly disappeared from his sight.

____________

Chirping out his window. Cheap bed sheets scratching against his skin. Breakfast cooking in the kitchen.

Peter’s eyes snapped open. Those weren’t what he had last experienced. No blood on his hands, no screams tearing out of his throat, no tears streaming down his face.

Sitting up slowly, he stared at his phone. Like clockwork, May came by, knocking on the door hastily.

His phone buzzed. Peter picked it up numbly.

_Tony: May said you got in some trouble. Have to adhere to the rules she lays down, kid. I can’t do anything about the patrol situation. Not to fear, spiderkid. Lab night is still on and your favorite Avenger is ready to help you with your webshooters._

His eyes jumped to the date right above his notifications. _January 15th, 2018._

Peter’s breath came out short, his hands dropping the phone.

Steepling his hands and pressing his forehead against them firmly, Peter tried to think through the fog that was muddling his brain. What were the facts? What could he focus on instead of spiraling out of control?

It was January 15th. Again.

Tony had died twice. Two different ways.

Each day started the same. His alarm clock, then May, then the text. 

No one had any recollection of the past two January 15ths.

Peter's eyes snapped when the realization hit him. “Groundhog Day," he stated out loud to no one in particular. "It's a time loop. I'm Bill Murray." The concept would be so much cooler if there wasn't the fact that Tony kept dying and forgetting but Peter kept remembering.

There was another knock on the door. “C’mon, Pete. I know you’re awake. Your breakfast is on the ta-” May stepped back when the door opened, Peter’s wide-eyed expression staring her down. 

“I gotta go to school. Uh, have to catch Ned and finish a project. I’ll see you later, May.”

In his frantic rush to grab his backpack and slip his shoes on, May called out for him to have a good day to which he wasn't even sure what he called back.

His feet moved until he was carried out into the New York street, hand coming to clutch his backpack strap. With an idea in his head, Peter set out to figure out what the hell was going on.

**Author's Note:**

> another fic? when i have two more I started?  
> yeah it's me. however, this one is like 75% finished, so... fingers crossed it gets posted.  
> groundhogs day concepts always interest me. I don't see enough of those on here. (the angst that can be poured into these- immaculate concepts, amen).


End file.
